Pillow Talk
by mystiri1
Summary: Heero is in hospital after the Mariemeia Incident. While he waits for him to wake up, Duo dwells on past mistakes. Yaoi, 1x2, first-person POV.


**_Warning:_**_ This story contains boy/boy sexual situations. If this offends you, don't read it._

* * *

I hate clichés.

It's scarcely any secret that I like to run my mouth – I talk a lot, talk fast, and – thankfully for me – think faster. I've talked my way in and out of trouble more times than I could count, and that's one of the reasons clichés annoy me. To me, clichés are the refuge of the apathetic, the mediocre and country western singers.

Sure, I've never been one to say a few words if I could use a hundred instead – but to me, to reduce people, places and situations to nothing more than a few glib words takes a total lack of any fellow feeling whatsoever. Being a cliche, that's just pathetic; with a little more energy and effort, at least they could try for something a bit more original, if not unique. And as for country western singers – well, don't get me started on them. That's a whole genre of music that thrives on apathy, mediocrity, and self-pity.

Which is why it pisses me off that I'm currently living the kind of cliché that would do any country western singer proud.

You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.

Come to think of it, I think that is in some song I've heard somewhere. Damn. I am pathetic.

The thing is it came to me as a total surprise to get it at all. To get _him_.

Heero Yuy.

Even after all this time, all the thinking I've done about that night, I'm not sure I can really say I _had_ him at all.

And as I am stuck pacing the corridor outside a hospital room while Relena Peacecraft sits by his bedside like some anxious, lovelorn heroine from a bad romance, I sure as hell don't have him now.

It was just one night. We met each other in the first few days of Operation Meteor, but if there's one thing Heero excels at, it's ignoring distractions for the sake of the mission. I figured that's what he considered me. I'd like to think that he also maybe thought of me as a friend, at least after all the effort I put into it, but mostly just another distraction.

Hey, the boy who never talks, and the boy who never shuts up – a good pair, don't ya think?

And we did work well together. That was generally it, though, work. We'd hang out together at a couple of those rich kid boarding schools we got stuck in – but that mostly consisted of me talking while he typed away at his laptop, ignoring everything I said. Not exactly quality male bonding time, huh?

Of course, I'm proud to say he didn't always succeed in ignoring me. Hell, I am Duo Maxwell – if I hadn't managed to get some kind of reaction about him once or twice I'd start to have some kind of personality crisis. Yeah, that boy could have completely ruined my self-confidence forever, my fragile ego dented beyond – Nah. Not likely.

What can I say? I'm just resilient like that.

That was why that night came as such a surprise.

We'd been celebrating the end of the war. It was a big party, on one of the Winner estates earth-side. It belonged to one of Quat's many sisters, I think. We were all there, though: Sweepers, Maguanacs, rebels from all sides who'd brushed up against each other during the conflict, and us pilots, too. I'd had a few drinks (like being underage is gonna stop _me_) and was feeling pretty damned full of myself. Ha, the war was over, and we won! By this stage my mood was high enough you'd think I did it on my own. Being that happy, though, is damned exhausting, so I'd made my way outside for a little peace and quiet.

Yeah, occasionally I appreciate a little quiet. You want to make something of it?

So there I am, standing out in the garden, staring up at the sky. Stars look different in space. I've never been able to decide which I like better; the view of the stars from earth or from space, but with the moon there's no contest. I never got what the big deal was about moonlight until I hit earth. If you're in space, it's just another big rock. On earth, it's got romance and mystery and all that jazz. No comparison.

Anyway, I'm starting to get a crick in my neck, and wondering whether I can even find my way back to the house – it was a really big garden - when I hear someone behind me.

Relaxed party mood or not, it'd take a lot for me to be comfortable with someone approaching me from behind when I don't know who it was. I whirled, and found myself face-to-face with Mr Stone-face himself.

Only he didn't look like himself. Well, like Mr Stone-face, I mean. There was something almost relaxed about him, and his eyes were sparkling a bit, his lips almost looked like they were smiling – a real smile, not that scary little smirk thing he can do, usually right before he kills something - and there was a slight flush to his cheeks. If it was anybody but Heero 'Perfect Soldier' Yuy, I'd have thought he'd been drinking.

Or it could have just been the moonlight.

"Duo."

"Heero, what are you doing out here?" The question held a wealth of slightly boozy good cheer, and, I thought, totally covered the fact that he'd startled the hell out of me. Something niggled at the back of my mind, but I ignored it in favour of doing what I did best: talking. "You should be inside, celebrating. You're the hero of the hour, hey, Heero? Whoa, that was unintentional, but appropriate, huh? 'Course, with the whole Japanese thing, it probably means something completely different, even if it sounds the -"

"One."

"– same, but still -" The brain was definitely running behind the mouth on this occasion, and it took a moment or two to register that I'd been interrupted. That Heero had said something, in response to what I was saying. That, just possibly, he was listening to what I was saying. It was a realisation that made me unusually eloquent. "What?"

"My name. Heero. It means one."

"Oh." Heero had volunteered information in response to something I said, information of a personal nature at that. It was almost like a real conversation. "Fancy that. It's a hell of a coincidence, 'cos my name means two." For the other boy I'd known, whose name also meant one. A name I chose because I never wanted him to be alone.

"I know."

My mind was in a funny place, because for a second I thought he meant that he knew about Solo. I'd told him all kinds of things over the course of our time together, but not that. I talked a lot, but I kept silent about the things that mattered most to me. Some things you don't share with just anybody.

"Yeah, I guess that one's not such a mystery. But anyway, there are all kinds of people inside who're damned happy not to be fighting anymore, and they'd be glad to lift a glass in your honour. Or can, or bottle, and I think I saw one of the Sweepers drinking from something that looked suspiciously like a bucket, but if he can manage to get all of that down, I'd be surprised -"

"Are you?"

"Am I what?" Conversation was much easier when I was doing the talking, and Heero was the one being confused, I decided.

"Are you happy to not be fighting anymore?"

"Hell, yeah! I mean, look at me! I'm young, smart, charming, and, I have it on good authority – well, from some of those girls at that horrible preppy school in France – absolutely gorgeous. There are so many more things I could be doing than trying to get my ass shot off playing with dolls, y'know? Haven't decided exactly what, yet, but I got time."

"Hn."

I tried to figure out what this particular grunt meant. If Heero was actually participating in a conversation, then this might not be the general, non-committal noise I usually took it to be. I usually translated Heero's grunts as 'I'm not listening', or if they were more emphatic, 'Shut up, baka.' Of course, being me, I took that as a signal to keep talking. If Heero wants me to shut up, he needs to take a couple of syllables to say so. Otherwise, I don't think he really means it.

"They're right."

"Who is?"

"Those girls."

What girls?

Oh.

Those girls.

Wait a minute.

Did Heero just agree that I was absolutely gorgeous?

"Uh." My eloquence deserted me completely. I stared at him, and he leaned forward, and the next thing I knew, we were kissing.

Yep, the evening had definitely taken a turn for the surreal.

Fortunately, this seemed to be something my mouth could handle without any input from my brain.

In fact, this was one time when my brain never really did catch up with my mouth. I think it was in a state of shock. Things get a little muddled from then on. I remember that Heero's lips were a little clumsy at first, but he caught on quick, and then it was hot, and hungry, and demanding. On both our parts. I'd noticed more than once during the war that the Perfect Soldier had the perfect ass, and the perfect – well, let's just say he was more than up to specs in pretty much every department. I'd spent the occasional hour drooling, and fantasising, and – I am a teenage boy, y'know, so yeah, that, too. Never thought anything would come of it, though. He completely blindsided me on this, but I wasn't complaining.

Somehow we ended up back at my room. I think Heero got us out of the garden, and once we reached the main part of the house, I wasn't so lost, but it was still a surprise to find myself standing beside my bed, with Heero less than a foot away, and removing his clothing. That damned tank top, and the spandex shorts which showed a noticeable bulge at the moment – and _damn,_ how did I not notice he wore nothing under those? I wasn't any more dressed up than he was, not that sort of party, but it occurred to me I _was_ wearing too many clothes, and why the hell did this shirt have to have so many buttons?

Then we were both naked and tumbling back on to the bed, and I got to touch that gorgeous body of his, for purposes other than emergency first aid. I felt greedy, wanting to feel all of him at once, and never stop. His hands were just as busy as mine, and had a habit of finding particularly sensitive spots whenever I managed to scramble up a coherent thought. So it's not my fault that we had sex without discussing anything first. Really.

Hands, lips, teeth, tongues, skin against skin – there was a fierceness to it that made me wonder if we were touching each other, or marking territory. It just all felt so good.

Some gasped and garbled conversation established that there was lube in my bedside drawer – teenage boy? Remember? – and then I was stretching him, preparing him for what was to come. I don't remember how we established that Heero was going to be on the bottom, or if we even did, but I do remember the expression on his face when I slipped that first finger in. Not pain – he's in the habit of hiding that, anyway – but there was surprise, and a tensing as his gaze locked on mine. There was a total blankness to it, but not his usual stone-faced expression; more like there was just too much for him to feel, all at once, and he was completely overwhelmed. Then I touched a spot inside him, and he arched, his eyes closing as he made a strangled sound of pleasure.

If I close my eyes now, I can still picture it, hear it, feel it. That lithe body arching before me, muscles tensed in pleasure. The cry that escaped him almost unwillingly. It was the first real noise he made. I was pretty vocal, but Heero appeared to be as silent a lover as he was the rest of the time. And the incredibly intimate sensation of having a part of me inside of him, the heat, even the way that those muscles contracted around my finger, a promise of things to come. The sudden giddy, rush of exhilaration at the knowledge that I could make him feel like that.

Somebody bumps into me, and my eyes fly open. I realise I've stopped my pacing to stand dead in the middle of a busy hospital corridor, with my eyes closed and probably wearing a completely dorkish expression. I can feel the heat creep up my cheeks in embarrassment.

Yeah, I can be embarrassed. It just takes a fair bit to get me there.

Squaring my shoulders, I go back to pacing. It only takes ten steps to walk the entire length of the hospital room on the other side of that wall. The room he is in. Ten steps one way, then turn, ten steps back, and a quick glance across the hall, into the open door as I turn again. My braid swings out like a whip with every turn, suggesting that maybe I'm going a little fast. Me, tense? Nah. Slow down? No way.

That moment, his reaction, made me want to rush ahead and go slow at the same time. I settled for being careful, because it was Heero, and I wanted this to be as perfect as my imperfect self could make it. So one finger became two, then three, and suddenly Heero opened his eyes, looked at me, and growled, "Duo."

Who says I can't follow orders?

Okay, I'm not completely inexperienced – I figure twice is still two more times than Heero had done it, because something tells me making out didn't rate very highly on his list of pre-war, training activities. And I'd topped then, too – I grew up on the streets, and being the bottom doesn't exactly have the best connotations for me. But it had been awhile, and, well, I just figure this was a hundred times better than the last time, because it was Heero.

I still tried to go slow, but Heero wrapped his legs around my hips and pulled me into him. I let out a rather undignified sound – something like, "Urk!" which is not the least bit erotic. I don't think he noticed.

He shifted his hips again to get me moving, and I happily complied.

Careful quickly became fast, and urgent, and mindless, and then everything just kind of – exploded.

I managed to kind of roll off to one side – okay, collapse – and lay there feeling dazed. The best way I can think of to describe it is that feeling you get after being knocked down by a big wave on a surf beach. Not long after I reached earth, I ended up hanging with Howard's crew, and they took me swimming. In Hawaii. I had become accustomed to the idea of that much water (after a couple of days staring at it in disbelief – water is not a plentiful commodity on any colony, let alone L2) but I had no idea about surf, currents, anything like that. I saw them, sure, but I waded out about to about mid-thigh, one of the guys called to me from the beach, I turned around and wham! This wave, taller than my head, crashed down over me and completely wiped me out. I found my feet again pretty fast, but all that water was heading back out again, pulling at me, and the sand beneath my feet kept disappearing. I was no longer in danger of drowning, but not exactly steady on my feet, either.

The only thing I could think of to say was, "Whoa."

Eloquent, huh?

Unfortunately, before I was up to thinking anything more articulate than that, Heero sat up, looked at me, and said, "I love you, Duo."

The post-orgasmic bliss shattered.

"What?!" My stomach twisted uncomfortably with some feeling I couldn't identify. "Uh, look, Heero," I stammered, "there's no need to be getting all carried away like that. It's just sex, y'know? Really good sex, yeah, but I'm not expecting anything, and you shouldn't let the whole thing push you into saying something you don't mean and are gonna regret later."

Yeah, Duo Maxwell, that's me. I run, I hide, but I never tell a lie. No matter how much I think about that night, I've yet to decide just which of the three that was. Not a lie, though. It's not a lie if you believe it, right?

Something flickered across Heero's face, but it wasn't one of the limited number of Heero-expressions I'd managed to translate yet, and it didn't hang around long enough for me to take a stab at it, either. His face went blank. "Hai."

I don't speak much Japanese, but I picked a few things up hanging around Heero. For example, I knew his favourite phrase, "Omae o korosu," a threat that (luckily for me) he rarely seemed to follow through on. Of course I knew "baka," too, the tone of which was so very self-explanatory he'd never needed to tell me what it meant. I chose to think of it as a pet name, or term of endearment. After all, he only used that one on me. So I knew that meant yes.

I smiled at him, relieved that this horribly awkward topic was over and done with. He bent over me, his mouth finding mine. I was quite happy not to be talking for once, and my body found reserves of energy I wouldn't have believed possible two minutes earlier.

This time I was on the bottom, and strangely unconcerned by it. I figured it was just 'cos Heero had done it first, and he's a fast learner. He'd be careful. Yeah, so I do lie, but only to myself. That's not the same. I trusted him. And if I thought before had been overwhelming, I don't think I was quite prepared for just how intimate it was to let someone else into your body. Understandable Heero might get carried away, I thought to myself before drifting off.

When I woke up the next morning, he was gone.

I didn't believe it at first. I figured he didn't have anywhere to go, after all. I kept waiting for him to show up again. Sure that he would.

I'm Duo Maxwell. I run, I hide, but I never tell a lie. Oh, and sometimes I'm an asshole.

But his stuff was gone, and nobody had seen him leave. Wing had vanished, too. You'd think a mobile suit that size would make somebody easier to find, but hey, OZ always had plenty of trouble doing it, and I did no better. I told myself it was just curiosity, wanting to know what he was up to, that kind of thing. But as the months wore on, the excuses wore thin.

I headed off to L2, with Hilde, and helped her out with the salvage yard. She didn't mind a roommate either. I was moving on.

Still, you don't just leave an experience like the war behind you. I had my fair share of nightmares. In fact, I had plenty from before the war, too. I had nightmares about the people I killed, the people I failed to save. Nightmares in which the people who survived, people I knew, added themselves to the list of my dead in various gruesome and disturbing ways.

Having a 'home' helped, though. I had a roof over my head, food to eat, and people weren't trying to kill me. I began to relax, and they decreased in frequency.

I had other dreams, too. I dreamt, repeatedly, of that night.

After a while, I began to regard these dreams as more disturbing than the nightmares.

Oh, sure, they were hot, and more than once I had to change the sheets when I woke up. I learned to do this before Hilde woke, because believe me, that is one conversation you don't want to have with your female roommate. I think she decided I had a clean sheet fetish, or something. But the thing that always stuck with me was that fleeting expression and the blank look that followed my response to his declaration.

I never figured out what that expression was, but I had my theories.

I did know what that uncomfortable feeling in my stomach had been, though. Fear.

Yep, Heero told me he loved me, and I panicked.

Nobody had ever said it to me before. I knew there were people who cared for me: Solo, Father Maxwell and Sister Helen. Howard was quite fond of me, too, in an avuncular kind of way. But that was just – caring, y'know? Nothing as powerful as love.

I'd never said it to anybody, either. Oh, sure, I loved Solo, then Father Maxwell and Sister Helen, with all the single-minded devotion of a young child who is relying on someone older for care and protection. Don't get me wrong, they were all wonderful, amazing people, and they changed my life – but the intensity of that feeling had as much to do with dependency as recognition of that fact. I still never came out and said it. Even then, I had plenty of defence mechanisms in place to stop anybody from hurting me, and there's still a part of me that thinks I was justified in keeping this to myself, because they're all dead now.

I know Heero probably has less experience with that kind of feeling than I do. No, not probably. He has no experience. He never really talked about his past, but I picked up a few things, that I doubt he even knew he'd let slip. I could guess at more, simply from being around Heero.

It's possible that yes, he really was just carried away by it all. Heero's not exactly the type to get carried away by anything, even hormones, but it could be true. Or maybe he did mean it, and I threw it back in his face.

Like I have enough love in my life to just be throwing it away, sincere or not.

Heero's never been one for saying much, and death threats aside, not one for saying things he doesn't mean.

Like I said, sometimes I'm an asshole. Don't argue with me, I'd know.

I can deal with the people I killed. I knew going in that people were going to die, and that I'd be responsible for some of them. I didn't expect Heero, or any of the other pilots. I didn't expect to make friends, real friends, in the middle of a war, although I've always been able to get along almost anywhere. Survival trait, y'know. And there was something about Heero, that once I knew he was a pilot, like me, I wanted to be his friend. Hell, he looked like he needed one.

And he got me.

Gee, did that sound bitter?

Anyway, I'd been mentally beating myself up for being an insensitive, sex-crazed asshole for months, certain I was never going to see him again because of it, and he turns up on my doorstep, asking for help.

Duo to the rescue!

Pretty romantic, huh? I'm not most people's idea of a white knight, but I was game. Anything for him.

Only it wasn't for him. Well, kind of, but the reason he wanted my help was that Relena had been kidnapped, and it was a threat to the peace he'd fought so hard for.

Okay, so she probably fits the damsel-in-distress role better than Heero, anyway.

But it was great. We worked together just as well as we had during the war. No mention was made of the night we had sex, or his declaration, or anything beyond the mission.

Heero's good at ignoring distractions, remember?

Me, I'm not so good, but there's that whole running and hiding thing which I excel at. I finally had him right there, could tell him that I was an asshole, and that it had been more than sex, and that I'd missed him, and maybe we could try to – Okay, so I wasn't quite so clear on where to go from there, except that it should be somewhere, that didn't involve him disappearing from my life again. And even when being shot at, and surrounded by bad guys, I felt that horrible, uncomfortable twist of panic in my gut. Not at the idea of ending up dead, but at the thought of coming out and saying it. Of risking the rejection I'd given him.

What if he'd moved on, too?

Later, I told myself. Now is not the time.

And if it just ended up too damned late, at least I wouldn't have said it, right?

The thought practically had me snarling at myself in self-disgust, and that was when Relena stepped out of the room.

I managed to pull myself up short about a second before I ploughed into her at high speed. But from the alarmed expression on her face, I probably don't want to know what I looked like just then.

"Uh, Relena." I sucked in a breath, and managed to dig up a grin from somewhere. "Sorry, guess I wasn't watching where I was going. I should be more careful, huh? At least if I have any accidents, I'm already in a hospital. That makes things easier."

"Did you get checked out? I mean, weren't you hurt, too?" Relena's looking at me, with that sincere, intense look that always stops me from writing her off as just another spoilt rich girl who thinks she knows better than everybody else.

"Aah, just a busted rib and a few bruises." Courtesy of Heero, but I don't tell her that.

"And when was the last time you had any rest?"

"Aaah -" Okay, what day is it?

A faint smile crosses her lips. "You pilots never really know when to stop, do you?"

The look she's giving me now makes me blush. "Well -"

"It's good to know Heero has friends who care so much about him." The smile's bigger now, and warmer. Then it slips. "I'm afraid I can't stay any longer, myself. I wanted to be here when he wakes up, but my kidnapping caused a fair amount of chaos, and the longer I put off dealing with it, the worse things will get." She sighed. "But you'll stay, right? I know I've been selfish, as they'll only let one person in at a time."

Even if I'd been planning to take off right then and there, I would have stayed if she asked it. A week, without budging from that spot. Damn, the girl has charisma. I suppose that makes sense; she is a politician. Didn't mean it didn't work. "I'm not going anywhere," I promised.

"I was hoping you'd at least go inside," she teased gently. "There's a seat in there – not terribly comfortable, I can attest to that, but you could sit down, and maybe get some rest while you wait?"

"Yeah, sure. I can do that." I blinked at her, and that faint smile reappears again, and my cheeks are suspiciously warm.

It had been days since I last got any sleep, I just fought my way through another, thankfully abortive, war, and I'd been pacing a hospital corridor for nearly two days, alright? So I think it's understandable if I'm not full of my usual sparkling wit.

"Thanks, Duo." She leaned forward, and I tried to work out what she was doing. The kiss on the cheek was completely unexpected. Now I was sure I was bright red. "Tell him I'm sorry I couldn't stay, and I want him to call me as soon as he can so that I know he's alright. My number's on the bedside unit." She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and sighed. "Now I'd better go do some work before they all decide I'm superfluous or something."

"Try and get some rest, okay?" she tossed over shoulder as she walked away, towards a collection of people in important looking suits. "I'm sure Heero wouldn't want you to end up in here too from sheer exhaustion."

"Uh-huh." I moved towards the door of the hospital room, and stopped on the threshold. It had that blank, sterile look that such institutions specialise it, but it lacked the general shabbiness of most hospitals and clinics I was familiar with. There was just one bed – apparently a hero rates a private room, or possibly it was Relena's influence again – and it was surrounded by a bevy of monitors. Despite all the high tech equipment, a metallic clipboard hung on the end of the bed, several sheets of paper clipped to its surface.

The figure in the bed was completely still.

I walked over, and unhooked the clipboard. I thought my handwriting was bad, but this was terrible. What little I could decipher was bereft of all meaning by way of medical-ese. Why can't doctors use plain English?

I slid it back into place and looked up. He looked pale, but the occasional bruise probably made that worse than it really was. They were already yellowing; Heero heals fast. His chest rose and fell with a slow and easy regularity. He looked like he was just asleep, except he'd been that way since he collapsed at Mariemaia's lair. Not to mention that he usually slept lightly, and would wake up at somebody entering his room.

There were a few exceptions, though. After a particularly strenuous mission, I'd once seen him sleep for a day and a half. It had surprised me, until he said that he hadn't been in any particular danger with me and the other pilots to watch his back.

Maybe he knew I had his back now?

Maybe he was just in worse shape than I knew.

I sighed, dragged the chair a bit closer to the bed, and sat down.

"Hey, Heero."

No response to my desultory greeting.

"Y'know, if we're gonna have this talk I keep putting off, you need to be awake and talking. Or at least grunting meaningfully in response."

Silence.

Of course, even if Heero was awake, he might not say anything. He often completely ignored my little conversational tidbits. But the lack of fingers tapping away at laptop keys made the silence sound . . . louder, somehow.

There were plenty of other noises around. There was some announcement over the hospital's PA system, which I didn't hear clearly. Footsteps heading briskly down the corridor, on their way to somewhere else with things to do once they got there. A quiet electrical hum, and a steady beep, beep, beep coming from one of the many machines by the bed.

I looked at that one. I watch tv, I can recognise a heartbeat on a screen when I see it. Don't know what all the other little letters and numbers on the screen meant, but there was a jagged line with spikes and valleys in a reassuringly even pattern.

See, Duo? I told myself. He's okay.

I leaned forward, rested my arms on the edge of the mattress. I was careful not to touch him – I wasn't really sure what injuries he did have. Didn't want to go hurting anything. So I just sat there and looked.

He looks so different asleep. Without those intense eyes peering at you or that watchful tension coiling through his body there's nothing to hint at the powerful force, mental and physical, that is Heero. Instead, he looks young. More like a child than the not-quite-adults our chronological ages made us. Certainly not like anyone who'd seen and done what we had.

I had a moment's discomfort. Heero and I had shared a room more than once, but he was usually awake when I went to sleep, and would be up before me, too. Did I change like this when I slept? Had he ever looked at me, and seen someone who looked this vulnerable?

It left me feeling curiously defensive. I had worked hard to prove myself to Heero during the war, and I didn't like the idea that I'd shown myself at a disadvantage without even realising it.

I know, the war is over. Stupid, huh?

But when things went bad, Heero came to me for help. That's gotta be a sign he doesn't think of me as a liability, right?

It was something to cling to, amidst all my uncertainty, so I grabbed at it with both hands. Then I went back to staring at him. Even with the bruises, that's an enjoyable pastime.

I wonder if I could get a rise out of him if I told him he's actually quite pretty? Must be the Asian genes, because Wufei has it, too; a kind of smooth delicacy to their facial features that would be downright devastating on a girl, and isn't too bad on either of these guys, either. I know I could probably work 'Fei into a frothing rage at the suggestion he's pretty.

But it wouldn't be fair to pick on Wufei right now. He was here earlier, and looked kind of – fragile. It wasn't something I associated with him anymore than I do with Heero, and was weirder than knowing he'd been on the other side in this latest conflict. I don't pretend to understand that particular choice, but from some things he let slip, apparently Heero did. I also got the impression at least part of Heero's injuries were due to the fact he was talking when he should have been fighting.

I have a hard time imagining _Heero_, of all people, trying to talk anyone down in the middle of a battle, so I gotta make sure I get the full story on that later. Probably from Wufei, who can be goaded into admitting all his faults with all the unforgiving detail of the truly self-righteous. He shouldn't be so hard on himself, but that's another trait he shares with Heero: great skin, killer eyelashes, and the inability to forgive himself for being less than perfect.

There's a noise behind me that makes me jump. A doctor enters the room. At least I think he's a doctor; he looks kinda young. Yeah, I know: teenage Gundam pilots shouldn't throw stones, but then I didn't need however many years of medical school to fly a mobile suit.

He picks up the chart, and makes a thoughtful noise. I stare at him. He glances briefly at Heero, a little longer at the monitors, and makes another thoughtful noise. I stare harder. It makes no impression, so I come right out and ask.

"Is he gonna be okay?"

"Hmm?" The doctor looks a bit startled. Clearly I need to work on developing a death-glare, as all that staring made no impression. "There's no truly serious injury here. He was checked for concussion, any signs his brain was swelling or he was bleeding internally, and it was all clear. The worst he has is some busted ribs, and a number of cuts that required stitches."

"But he hasn't woken up."

"Hmm." Another thoughtful noise. "Yes, we're a little puzzled by that, but from his brainwave patterns, he's just sleeping." A shrug. "Sometimes a person's body just needs rest in order to deal with physical or emotional stress."

"Hn." It was a sound to have done Heero proud, but I honestly couldn't figure out what to say, anyway.

The doctor hung the chart back on the end of the bed, and left.

I went back to leaning against the edge of the mattress, and watching Heero. At some point, resting my arms became resting my head, as well, and I fell asleep.

I don't know what woke me up. It could have been that he moved, or a change in his breathing or something. But I lifted my head and blinked at him, bleary-eyed, just in time to see a scowl cross his face. There was a familiar, "Hn." Then he stilled. About thirty seconds later, his eyes popped open.

I felt like cheering.

They focused on me, nothing bleary or dazed about them, and there was a flash of sheer happiness, so unlike Heero, at seeing me. And so devastating, too, as a moment later his features settled into familiar blankness.

"Duo."

It was a little croaky, but that was understandable. There was a pitcher of water and a glass beside the bed. I picked it up, had a moment's doubt, and walked over to tip the water down the little sink nearby before refilling it from the tap. Then I poured him a glass.

Yeah, I have my paranoid moments too. And Heero would feel easier about drinking it, because he was trained to be paranoid.

He pushed himself upright a little, and took the glass from me. A slight grunt as it disturbed his ribs – my own twinged in sympathy, as sleeping hunched over the edge of the bed had been a bad idea – and he drained it dry. He handed it back and asked, "Relena?"

"She's okay," I assured him. "She wanted to be here when you woke up, but has some fires to put out. Her number's there – she wants you to call her."

He gave me a puzzled look which said more eloquently than words ever could, 'Why?'

"So that she knows you're alright, of course. Doctors aren't very reassuring, and she'll feel better for seeing it herself."

"Hn."

It felt like old times. Heero was lacking social interaction skills at the best of times, but girls left him completely confused. More than once, I'd explained their more obscure behaviours to the other boy, who didn't understand that the way they giggled and looked away when they saw him coming down the school corridor didn't actually mean they found him amusing. I wasn't really all that sure about that one, myself, although I knew what it meant. But this was easy. Regardless what the doctor said about him not being seriously hurt, I still worried until he woke up.

"Mariemaia?"

"Injured, but not dead. Apparently Barton shot her in the back – sounds his speed – and she's in another unit of the hospital, under heavy guard. Une's taking charge of her. The fighting's over and done with – people just refused to stand for it. I'm talking massive public protests. Wufei said crowds of civilians just stood in front of mobile suits, and wouldn't get out of the way. None of the enemy pilots had the stomach for going straight over the top of 'em." There's an admiring tone to my voice. That took guts. Not much brains, but guts, and sometimes the smart thing isn't the best. I know that.

"Hn." He relaxed back against the pillows.

"Wufei's off somewhere with Sally, by the way. She told him if he needs a fight, there's plenty for Preventers to do, making sure everybody disarms, and that nobody starts another war. I think he's gonna say yes, at least once he stops feeling guilty enough to consider it. Maybe I should suggest it's a kind of penance? It'll be good for him anyway."

No response, but this is so normal, I can feel myself relaxing.

"Une offered both of us a job, too. Kind of making it permanent, rather than just a temporary thing, like this was. I've been thinking about it – Hilde's doing okay, and she doesn't really need me." My mouth is open to say something else, and I stop. After a moment's hesitation, I continue. My voice is more serious than usual, because what I'm saying is a bit more personal than I'll usually give away.

"I'd like to do something that makes a difference, too, y'know? I mean, the war made a difference, but it was mostly killing people. I was good at it, but it's not something to really be proud of. At least, that's what I think. We put an end to it, but I get what Sally say was saying, about stopping it before it starts. That's got to be better, huh?"

I look up, not really quite sure when I found it easier to stare at the plain white bedcovers than at Heero. He looks back at me, those blue eyes as intense as ever. "I thought you liked the salvage yard," he said after a moment.

"Fixing things is good," I admitted. No secret there – I loved any excuse to tinker with something mechanical, and always would. "But . . . It's Hilde's life, y'know? Not mine. Her house, her yard, her business. She doesn't need me, although she likes the company." Not an easy admission to make. "I think maybe its time to get a life of my own. And I'd like it to be needed."

I look away, back at the covers, my stomach twisting. I can feel the flush decorating my cheekbones.

"Hn."

I'm not up to deciphering that one, not right now.

A few minute's silence, and I manage to ask, "What about you? Do you think you'll say yes?"

He doesn't answer right away, but I wasn't expecting him to.

"I think -" The words are hesitant, and there's a moments pause before he goes on. "I would like to make a difference that doesn't involve killing people, too."

I meet his eyes, and for once, we have no trouble understanding each other. It's that which gives me the courage to risk saying what I did next.

"There's something else I need to tell you."

His gaze sharpens with hawk-like intensity, and I feel the sudden tension in him. I realise he thinks it's to do with the mission, what people are already calling the Mariemaia Incident, as if it somehow makes it less fraught than it was.

"That night – when you said – what you did -" I look away. I'm such a coward. All this time wanting to fix things, and I still can't resist the urge to run and hide. My eyes fall on his hand, and it is clenched tight about a fistful of bedcovers, the knuckles white. I focus on those tensed fingers as if they're a lifeline, and plunge ahead.

"I don't have much experience with the whole . . . love thing. Never said it to anybody myself, and nobody's ever said it to me, either. I guess – No, I _know_ I panicked when you said it. It's just . . . so much, y'know?" I look up, imploring him to understand, and he's still watching me. I don't think he'd so much as breathed since I started speaking. "I wasn't expecting it, any of it, and I wasn't sure how I felt, except for confused. I didn't even figure out that I was scared until much later. Guess that's pretty messed up, huh? 'I love you' isn't exactly the scariest thing to hear by most people's standards. But it's such a big feeling to be dealing with, and I don't know how, and that is scary."

"Aa."

That one word of agreement, of understanding, has me feeling like I could burst into tears. But boys don't cry, or so Solo always told me. "So." I squared my shoulders, drew in a deep breath, and managed a ghost of a smile. "I guess we'll be seeing more of each other, and maybe working together, and stuff. Maybe we could do something else, too, like dinner, or, uh, basketball, or, I dunno, just hang out, and I could try and figure it out without screwing up to badly again, if you want. Or I can just -"

His fingers on my lips stop my babbling. I stare at him, frozen, anxious. Then the 'hush' gesture changes to a soft caress, as he explores the outline of my mouth with his fingertips. "I have some . . . things to learn, too."

He smiles, just a slight turning up of the lips, but it's a real smile. A smile he really means. I smile back, a big relieved grin that probably looks goofy, but I don't care.

Yeah, it's still scary. But some things are easier when you're not alone.


End file.
